


they'll talk about us, all the lovers, how we kiss and kill each other

by moonmotels



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: F/F, just your typical friends to lovers moonmotels classic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25098253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonmotels/pseuds/moonmotels
Summary: misty + cordelia + their newly adopted iguana
Relationships: Misty Day/Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode
Comments: 14
Kudos: 91





	they'll talk about us, all the lovers, how we kiss and kill each other

**Author's Note:**

> the war has been incited and guess what?  
> you're all invited,  
> but I'd love it if we made it  
> (I'd love it if we made it)

“I fucking hate men.”

The immaculately dressed blonde, followed close behind by Zoe and Mallory, swoops into the kitchen with a flourish of grandeur and a cloud of something sweet; her perfectly picked perfume maybe.

Misty unconsciously moves away from Cordelia, spilling a few drops of the soup she’d been inches away from offering to her unnervingly attractive lips. If Cordelia is bothered by the droplets on the floor, she gives her best poker face. Although, Misty thinks, she could burn down the house and Cordelia would still ask her if she’d eaten well that morning. The thought sends a little thrill up her spine.

But now’s not the time for harmless fantasies, Coco has much more pressing issues. In her usual fashion, she flings herself on the stool and hunches over the kitchen island in defeat, short legs kicking back and forth under the table. When Zoe and Mallory each begin giving her a tentative pat on the back, she wails, “Guys, a little space?”

“We’re gonna, um, go look up his address and put a hex on him,” Mallory says, tugging Zoe forcefully by the arm. The two shoot apologetic glances at Misty and Cordelia before scampering from the room.

Cordelia shares her own apologetic look with Misty before setting down whatever bottle of organic spice she’d been about to use. Sighing, she turns and offers a weak, “What’s up, Coco?”

“What’s ‘up’?” Coco air quotes, “what’s up is that men need to be taken off this earth and sent to their own planet so they can fuck up their own lives and not mine.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she childishly huffs out a breath.

Misty begrudgingly places her spoon down, knowing this wasn’t going to be a simple cut and dry conversation. As kindly as can be after being interrupted in the middle of her lovely day with Cordelia, she tries, “Do you wanna talk ‘bout it, Co?”

“No.”

Cordelia flutters her eyes shut and Misty knows she’s counting to three, a measure used to calm herself down before blowing up on someone. Of course, Misty’s never been on the receiving end of that anger. (And she never will be.) “Then do you mind finding somewhere else to have a breakdown? Misty and I were just about to use the island to roll out dough for our pastries.”

“Oh, sure, just rub it in everyone’s faces.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t act dumb, Miss Supreme. We all know you don’t need to worry about getting your heart torn out of your chest and thrown into a blender by some dumbass white man who doesn’t care about your feelings.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Cordelia asks, “I don’t what?”

Waving a hand towards Misty; who stands cowering in the corner pretending her recipe book is insanely interesting, Coco rolls her eyes. “Don’t act like you’re not sharing your gross feelings and holding hands with Mist when you think no one’s looking. Neither of you are slick.” 

“We’re just friends,” Misty says softly, a rehearsed string of words used far more often than she’d like. It’s true, but that doesn’t mean the truth doesn’t send a quick flash of hurt through her small frame. Friends hold hands and share deep, personal feelings late at night, no?

“We’re friends,” Cordelia repeats, but if words had power, the entire block would be blown up into a cloud of dust and ash with the sheer force of sadness and self hatred swelling inside her.

“Friends my ass,” Coco mutters under her breath.

“Coco,” Cordelia snaps, “I’m not having this conversation again.”

Misty glances at the two of them with a look of confusion painted across her face. This conversation - again? 

“So I’ve been told. Anyway, just be lucky you’re not out here going on dates with gross men only to be told you’re not what they’re ‘looking for’. Sorry if I’m a little on edge.”

“Tim told you that?” Misty finally pipes up from her corner.

“Yeah, and a bunch of other bullshit like I’m too talkative and give off ‘Karen’ vibes. Like, God forbid I send my steak back because it was practically still fucking mooing.”

Unable to stop herself, Cordelia muffles her giggles behind the dish towel she’d used to wipe her mouth off. Whispering, “Your soup is good,” before quickly turning back to Coco, she completely misses Misty’s beaming grin at the praise.

(And what a shame that was.)

“Co, I know you mean well, but you’ve got to start dating people who are good for you. Not these random men off dating apps.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Coco tries, but is quickly silenced by the glare she receives from Cordelia. “But yeah, I guess. It’s just so fun sometimes. Don’t you ever want to meet new people and get free drinks out of it?”

Stealing the quickest of glances at Misty as she hums to herself while poking around for a mixing bowl, Cordelia shakes her head no. “I’m content.”

“Must be nice. Anyway, you wouldn’t mind if I throw a little party tonight and invite some guys over, right?”

“Actually, I -”

“Great, I’m thinking like twenty, twenty five people tops. The girls are gone for summer break, so you won’t have to worry about them and I’ll take care of food and stuff. It’ll be great.”

“I don’t think a party is going to help you get over Tim.”

“No, but at least I’ll have a chance of getting laid while still being sad about it.”

“We were gonna have a quiet night, you know, a movie maybe,” Misty starts, but she’s quickly hushed with Coco’s excited ramblings.

“You guys seriously make the perfect old couple. It’s cute. Did you get new yarn to knit matching sweaters too? Or maybe a puzzle to really spice things up?" 

“Keep it up n’ I’ll tell all these men you’re invitin’ that you snore.”

Coco gasps. “I do not.”

Cordelia backs Misty up, nodding in solidarity. “They have to be warned.”

“Oh, fuck off, you two. I’ll uninvite you guys so damn quickly.”

“It’s my house!” 

Hopping off her stool much more energized than she was five minutes ago, Coco grins. “I’m gonna go find Mal and Zoe again, they’ll understand me. Be ready for the party at nine.”

Misty pokes Cordelia’s side gently and giggles, “Somehow, I don’t think they will.”

Cordelia shakes her head in disbelief, adjusting her apron dotted with hand-sewn flowers. The pale blue fabric was a gift from Misty on her birthday this past year. Birthdays were never a big deal to Cordelia, but Misty could not pass up a chance to make her feel special, and, well, the fact that she wears her apron is just the icing on the cake. 

“Do you want to start activating the yeast while I mix the wet ingredients?” Cordelia is now in Supreme mode, taking control over things and making sure they’re perfect. Misty gives her this opportunity; knowing it’s just one of many layers to Cordelia. She likes things done her way, but Misty knows she’s also ferociously tender and caring. It makes her feel warm inside when Cordelia allows that steel exterior to slip little by little, giving glimpses of what’s underneath the surface.

And when she allows herself to dwell on that long enough, Misty’s come to the conclusion that she’s the only person privy to seeing the intense and beautiful emotions that simmer below, a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Forgetting for a second about the task at hand, Misty shakes herself out of her haze and nods. “Sure, Delia.” 

Stirring the mixing bowl, Misty watches as Cordelia carefully measures her ingredients out. Getting lost in the way her hands look; so capable and strong in the streaming sunlight, Misty zones out imagining where else those hands could be placed. Maybe gripping her waist as they move against each other slowly, roaming over her body late at night under the cloak of the moon, perhaps even squeezing gently around her throat.

(If she’s lucky.)

“Shit,” she mutters, noticing she’d poured too much warm water into her bowl. Quickly fixing her mistake, she turns to find Cordelia hunched over her cookbook, pointer finger tracing her bottom lip in deep concentration. It’s unfair, really. 

“All set,” she chirps, offering the bowl to Cordelia. “Just gotta let it rise n’ then we can roll it out.”

“Great, I have everything else all set here.” Brushing up against Misty to reach for some plastic wrap, the younger blonde tries to pretend it didn’t send shockwaves through her. “Is there anything you need to do while this rises?” _Anything if it’s with you_. “I might finish my book, it’s actually quite interesting -”

“Beignets.”

Cordelia stops short. “What?”

“Beignets,” Misty repeats. _Use your fucking words._ “Did you want to get some? With me, I mean?”

Looking at the mountain of dough settling on their kitchen counter, Cordelia looks back at Misty with a lopsided grin. “We’re already making cherry pastries. You want to go get beignets?”

“Yup.”

“Okay,” Cordelia says slowly. “I suppose we could do that. The pastries can be for the party later, how’s that?”

“Good. Great,” Misty winces to herself. “Are you ready?”

Gesturing to herself, Cordelia laughs so beautifully it makes Misty’s insides hurt. “I don’t think I want to leave a trail of flour wherever I go, can you give me five?”

“Take ya sweet time, I got all of it in the world.”

Ten minutes later much less covered in flour and sugar, Cordelia comes back into the kitchen. She’s changed into casual attire, an outfit so domestic and down to earth Misty has to count to five in order to form a rational thought. Doing simple things like baking and walking to the French Quarter with Cordelia is always fun at the time, but by the end Misty is filled with such longing and disgustingly sweet emotion that it’s hard to separate the line between their friendship and what she _actually_ wants.

But like the masochist she’s become, she holds the back door open for Cordelia and pretends she’s not just the slightest bit more in love with her.

Tentatively linking her arm through Misty’s, Cordelia uses her almost as a guide to avoid cobblestone and cracks in the pavement. It’s nice, knowing with utmost certainty that Misty would never let her fall. Smiling to herself, she grips a little tighter to the defined bicep muscles below her thin peasant top. “I was thinking that we should get a pet for the house.”

“A pet?” Misty snorts, “got plenty of ‘em back in my swamp.”

“A _domesticated_ pet,” Cordelia emphasizes.

“Sorry my gators don’t wipe their feet off ‘fore they walk in the door. I’ll work harder on training them.”

Cordelia chuckles quietly, ducking to hide her embarrassing blush. Misty has these one-liners that never fail to crack her up, but bursting into full blown laughter would just cause her to look like a fool. “As nice as that sounds, I was thinking something much smaller, a cat maybe.”

“Delia, you might as well stroll around with a big black hat and old wooden broomstick.”

“Who says I don’t already own them?”

Now it’s Misty’s turn to laugh as they settle into an easy stride, enjoying the cloudy cool day. It’s just chilly enough that the body heat radiating off Cordelia provides comfort, but Misty tries her hardest not to lean in and drown in the warmth.

As they stand in the line that wraps around the outside of Cafe Du Monde, Misty people watches while Cordelia plots ways to talk her out of buying fifteen beignets like they did last time. Out of nowhere, Misty says, “We should get your pet today.”

“Today? Like right now?”

“Why not?”

“I’m not - we don’t have anything at home prepared.”

“Don’t be such a baby, you can buy it all at the shelter. C’mon,” Misty smiles so wide it makes Cordelia smile back, and she finds herself nodding in agreement.

“Okay, yes, let’s do it.”

Clapping excitedly, Misty practically beams rays of sunlight as she jumps in place. Her excitement is enthralling, entirely too riveting for such a quiet crowd, but Cordelia doesn’t mind; she’ll never mind.

By the time they’ve made it to the front, Misty has convinced Cordelia that an extra five beignets _for the road_ is essential. As they each gracefully handle eating one, avoiding the powdery sugar mess, their arms unconsciously loop again as they stride towards the edge of town where the shelter is.

They’ve been here before on several occasions after Misty had come home bearing shoe boxes filled with injured animals of all species, usually ones that made a lot of noise late at night. By the fourth bird with a broken wing, Cordelia made Misty promise to bring them here next time. 

The staff, well versed in the nature of their visits, all greet Misty and Cordelia as they walk through the door. 

“Another bird? Or did you bring me something exciting this time?” The pretty young brunette, Maria, actually winks in Misty’s direction. Cordelia watches in horror as Misty drops her arm and bounces forward to greet Maria halfway. And when they hug, well, Cordelia sees stars.

“Mar, I’m here to adopt today, ain’t that funny? I’m usually the one bringin’ you someone.”

“Finally,” she laughs before turning to Cordelia with much less enthusiasm. “Hi, Miss Goode.”

“You can call me Cordelia,” she says tersely, trying to maintain some dignity with the way Maria still holds on Misty’s forearm.

“Well, guys, unfortunately our last cat just got adopted and our two dogs have already found their homes, but we do have reptiles and rabbits left if you want to see them?”

Misty turns back to Cordelia and flashes her an excited grin, motioning for her to follow. At the end of the dingy hallway is the room with small cages, all boasting tired and sad looking animals.

“Feel free to look around and let me know what you decide,” Maria bids them goodbye with an inconspicuous brush of her hand across Misty’s lower back. If Cordelia were just the slightest bit more unhinged, she’d actually start screaming.

“Oh, Delia, look at him,” Misty coos, sticking her finger in the glass enclosure of a snake aptly named Slip. 

“No, no snakes.”

“ _Chicken_ ,” Misty singsongs under her breath as she moves along. “How ‘bout a rabbit?”

Cordelia wrinkles her nose. “They kind of smell.”

After a few more minutes of back and forth, the two come to the final cage; an iguana named Fluffy.

“I don’t … hate it,” Cordelia says as she examines the enclosure, in partial disbelief of herself.

“Yeah? He’s kinda cute. And his name’s real funny.”

“He’d be easy to care for, and the girls can learn basic manners cleaning up after him.”

“We can take him on walks,” Misty adds excitedly.

“Sure, maybe in the future,” Cordelia says, knowing she isn’t joking.

“Can we get ‘im?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Dee, we’re gonna make such good parents,” kissing Cordelia’s cheek with elation, Misty practically skips from the room. “I’m gonna go get Maria.” 

It leaves Cordelia’s head spinning, something saccharine sweet and debilitating at the same time. 

An hour, one iguana, and an expensive twenty gallon tank later, Misty and Cordelia make it home. As Cordelia goes to open the door, Misty stops her.

“Can we let him roam around the backyard for a hot sec? He’s prolly so tired of bein’ cooped up inside.”

“Yes, of course. Let me put this inside and check on our dough. Do you want some lemonade?” 

At Misty’s excited nod, Cordelia makes it a note to hurry. When she returns five minutes later, she finds Misty sitting cross legged in the grass with Fluffy on her shoulder, pointing out the flora to him.

She’s explaining the process of natural sunlight versus artificial by the time Cordelia sits gracefully across from her, handing over a glass of ice cold lemonade. “Do you really think he’s listening?”

“He’s gonna be the smartest iguana in the city, s’all I know.” Misty takes the drink and downs half of it in one gulp, sighing in content. Between this throaty sound and the rays of sun poking through clouds illuminating the freckles on her shoulders, Cordelia has never seen anything so beautiful. It makes her hurt, knowing she’s got Misty this close but still eons away, like a moon orbiting it’s radiant planet. Close, but never close enough.

“I think he’ll be very happy here,” she agrees.

Misty adjusts herself so that her head lies in Cordelia’s lap, an all too familiar touch that is unknowingly sending shockwaves through her companion. Settling comfortably, she places Fluffy on her chest and coos over him. Cordelia scratches his head and smiles, so undeniably happy that this is her life now. She may have to hold Misty at a distance, but she’s here and she’s alive; she could never be so selfish as to ask for more.

“Can we get him different outfits? He’d look cute in a little tutu.”

“Sure we can,” Cordelia replies, thrilled at Misty’s possessive word usage. “Madison might make fun of it though.”

“Hollywood can eat shit.”

Peals of laughter spill out from both of their mouths, loud and delightful. “Don’t tell anyone I laughed at that,” Cordelia cries, swiping her under eye.

“Cross my heart,” Misty replies solemnly. The twinkle in her eyes is momentarily stunning to Cordelia; it knocks the wind right out of her chest. Sometimes she wonders how Misty can be real; how this beautiful creature was plucked right from the stars and placed in her life. Cordelia is undeserving, she believes, but so is the rest of the world.

“You know, you’re real cute when you laugh.”

Cordelia stops breathing. “What?”

Misty shrugs. “Just thought you should know.”

“Oh, well, thank you. So are you.”

It’s silent for a few moments, but then out of nowhere, Misty asks, “What did you and Coco mean this morning?”

“About what?”

Misty shifts, her head no longer on Cordelia’s thigh. She tries not to miss the contact too much. “When ya told her you weren’t having ‘this conversation’ again.”

“Oh, that? You know Coco, she’s always meddling in other people’s business.”

“What business is that?”

Cordelia lets her head fall back, where she can look up at the cloudy sky and wish for some sort of miracle. “She’s under the impression we’re in love or something.” It comes out slow and calm, but on the inside there is a full on breakdown brewing.

Misty stops picking up shreds of grass, her body growing still and cold. If she could bring herself to look at Cordelia right now, she believes that one moment could rule the course of her entire future. But she doesn’t look at her in the eyes; she can’t. Now isn’t the time. Instead of replying, she merely hums.

“That’s silly, isn’t it?” Cordelia starts.

“I don’t -”

“I mean, Coco has no idea what she’s talking about, right?” Cordelia laughs nervously to herself, a blush creeping up the sides of her neck and painting it with a crimson hue.

Misty just stares off into the distance.

In order to rectify how off course this conversation has become, Cordelia attempts a backtrack. “I guess I understand where she’s coming from, but that’s insane; we’re just friends, and -”

“I better take Fluffy ‘nside,” Misty says abruptly. The grass clinging to her skirt falls off in slow motion and Cordelia can do nothing but watch. “He’s prob’ly cold. You can finish the pastries, right? I’m kinda tired.”

“Misty, wait.”

Ignoring the useless attempt, Misty lets the back door slam behind her; insultingly and grossly final.

Five hours later with music pumping through the baseboards of her floor, Cordelia sits at her vanity finishing her makeup. It’s not that wants to attend this party, more-so that Coco might murder her if she doesn’t. Misty hasn’t come out of her tiny room all afternoon, but Cordelia assumes she’s simply being avoidant. The funny thing is, Cordelia was already two steps ahead of her. It’s probably best she keep Misty at a further distance now that she’s completely ruined what she thought could end up being the best thing to come out of her seemingly pathetic life.

“ _Stupid_ ,” she mutters to herself, rising from the vanity and slipping on her short (yet modest), black dress.

Downstairs, the music is louder and Cordelia’s home has been turned into what can only be described as an elegant frat house. Coco; ever the hostess, had set out enough snacks and drinks to feed a small army. Off in the corner, Zoe and Madison are stood in their shortest dresses and drinking up the attention from three boys who look like they would run stark naked down the front steps for them if simply asked.

Scoffing to herself, Cordelia turns into the kitchen and runs smack into Misty’s back as she’s leaned over the snack table.

(Because of course she did.)

Misty yelps quietly, moving to see who had bumped into her. When she meets Cordelia’s eyes, something quick flashes behind her eyes; hurt, or maybe regret for leaving her room this evening. It doesn’t help that she looks otherworldly, a halo of frizzy hair framing her face that could have been carved from marble. Cordelia aches to reach out and brush it from her blue eyes, the ones she dreams about late at night when she allows selfish fantasies to sweep over.

“I’m sorry.”

“Just watch y’self, alright?”

Reaching out with tentative fingertips, Cordelia asks gently, “Can I talk to you? I’d like to explain myself.” When Misty jerks her arm away quicker than she can blink, Cordelia gets her definitive answer. Painful emotion swells in her throat, cutting off her ability to breathe.

Shaking the ice in her glass, Misty comments, “Gotta get another drink. Maybe later.”

“Maybe,” Cordelia echoes.

Now it’s her turn to squeak when someone bumps into her from the side. With blurry, tear filled eyes, she finds Coco examining her with a questionable look. “What was that about?” she slurs, “Seemed kinda tense.” She smells like tequila and men’s cologne up close, making Cordelia’s nose wrinkle.

“If things are tense, it’s because you stuck your nose somewhere it didn’t belong,” she snaps.

“Okay, no need for the dramatics,” Coco tugs Cordelia by the wrist over to the bar cart and pours her a hefty drink of bourbon before sitting her down on the couch. “So, what did I do?”

Cordelia glares at her.

Forcefully pushing the drink towards her mouth, Coco motions for her to swallow. “Can’t apologize if I dunno what I’m apologizing for.”

“Misty asked me what we were talking about earlier.”

“I’ve had a couple drinks, you’ll need to elaborate.”

“This morning, when you were making fun of us for being friends?”

“Oh, that? You mean that shitty label you smacked on your relationship that doesn’t even remotely cover how you feel about each other?”

“Could you please lower your voice? Some of us like to keep the personal things personal.”

“Forgive me for having the balls to say what we’re all thinking,” Coco presses her manicured finger to Cordelia’s chest; and if Cordelia didn’t love her so goddamn much she’d be pulling that hand away with one less digit.

“Shut up.”

“Look, babe, I’m just trying to push you in the right direction. You’re a little fucking stubborn.”

“I am not stubborn.”

“You refuse to let me go grocery shopping because I bought the wrong brand of paper towels one time.”

“They were the more expen- you know what? It doesn’t matter. Misty and I are friends, and I’m not sure why everyone is so hell bent on making such a big deal about it.” The two and half shots Coco had poured into her drink are slowly coming to affect Cordelia’s actions now, her limbs and mind growing more loose by the minute. Maybe she shouldn't have swallowed it in two gulps, but her life is currently the complete opposite of sunshine and rainbows.

“So tell me then, you’re okay with Misty talking to some random guy that Madison invited?”

Cordelia whips her head around so fast that Coco is afraid she’d have whiplash if not for the radiant health. Following Coco’s direction, she turns just in time to watch this man have the audacity to slip his hand around Misty’s waist; careless and way too comfortable like he knows her. 

Blood red anger fills her vision, the glass in her hand seconds away from cracking under pressure. Coco grabs her drink and sets it down slowly, pressing a comforting palm on her thigh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. He’s probably just trying to talk to her, it’s loud in here.”

Suddenly remembering where she is, Cordelia plasters a fake smile across her face and asks, “Where’s Madison?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, it was my fault for telling her she could invite anyone, let’s just -“

Spotting Madison across the living room chugging from a red solo cup, Cordelia stands and has to steady herself immediately; all the alcohol rushing to her brain. “It’s fine, I just want to talk to her.”

Shaking off Coco’s reach, Cordelia stalks halfway across the room, shouting Madison’s name above the music. Holding a shot glass teetering with clear alcohol, Madison grins maliciously at her Supreme’s typical, uptight stance.

“Aw, did swampy reject your advances again? You’re finally ready for my advice? Took you long enough.” 

Cordelia retracts backwards as if slapped. “No, I came to ask -”

“That’s too bad, because she looks super comfy with Brad. I should become a matchmaker or some shit,” Madison laughs to herself, unaware of the storm that’s about to rage down upon her.

“I told Coco she could invite people she knew,” Cordelia hisses, ”not some random strangers you probably found in an alley off Bourbon Street.”

“Relax Cordy, swampy’s dyke vibes are off the fucking charts. Brad will probably just feed her a few drinks and try to makeout. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry?” Cordelia nearly screeches, “I want him out of my house, before I -”

Above all else; the music, the crowd of people, and her own conversation, Cordelia hears one distinct voice rise. It’s the one she hears in every waking daydream; the one she wants whispering in her ear late at night and telling her good morning the next day.

Loud and clear, “I said no.”

“Come on, baby, you look so sexy tonight. Madison told me you’re down.” Brad’s voice is low and cool in Misty’s ear, but Cordelia can hear it loud enough. He’s in Misty’s personal space, clearly avoiding all the blatant signals that she’s uncomfortable. Before she thinks about it, Cordelia’s feet are carrying her across the room and she’s ready to blow a hole in her wall if it meant Brad’s limp body would be flown through with it.

Just as she’s about to reach for Brad, Misty pushes him away from her. He stumbles, likely because of the six or seven beers in his system, then falls to the floor. His groan reverberates throughout the room, and dozens of eyes all fall on Cordelia, Misty, and the man writhing on the floor in pain. 

Misty huffs, her wild hair flying every which direction. Adjusting her shawl to maintain some shred of decency, she points her gaze towards Cordelia and glares maliciously. “I’m not your pretty lil’ princess you gotta come save, and you’re not my knight in shining armor either. I didn’t ask for or need your help.”

Glancing around the room in embarrassment, she takes a step back and then another, leaving the living room in a rush.

“Misty, wait,” Cordelia wails.

Looking down at Brad, wanting so badly to press her heeled foot on his throat, she’s startled to feel Coco pushing her towards where Misty fled. “Go, go, I’ll take care of him.” Cordelia doesn’t wait long enough to see Coco drag Brad by the collar and throw him out on the front lawn. It’s probably for the best as well, because she’d want to do a lot worse than kick him out.

Following Misty’s light footsteps out the backdoor, Cordelia stays on high alert. She doesn’t want to scare her off; chasing after her into the darkened greenhouse this late at night. The door is cracked open, only the moon illuminating her wet footprints from the dewy grass. It’s silent; devoid of any signs of life besides the low hum that seems to vibrate through the plants whenever Misty is around. It’s like they know she’s the source of all their life, that she’s got the ability to revive even the deadest among them.

It’s funny, how Cordelia feels the exact same.

“Misty?”

“You just can’t leave me alone, can’ya?”

The door creaks shut behind Cordelia and she leans against it, needing the stability of something before she falls over. “Why are you - what are you so _angry_ for?”

“I’m not angry, just wish you’d pick up the hint I don’t wanna talk.” Misty busies herself by watering the plants, but her trembling hands and the fact that she’d already watered them this morning give her away. 

“Can we please work this out?” Cordelia swallows her pride. “I don’t like it when you’re upset.” She can see Misty soften up just the slightest bit, enough for her to agree they carry on this conversation on the bench outside in the garden.

Settling onto the wrought iron seat, Cordelia scoots to the complete opposite side so Misty has all the space she needs. She always finds herself doing this; letting Misty occupy the space she deserves so that her personality is never suppressed. The darkness surrounding them provides a cloak of secrecy, a promise that Cordelia isn’t nearly as exposed as she feels.

“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.”

Misty snorts. “I’m not upset.”

“You -”

“I’m just tired. So fuckin’ tired.”

“Of me?” Cordelia curls her knees up to her chest and hugs them. She wishes, oddly enough, that she had someone to hug her. Her mother, maybe. Despite her cruel and vicious upbringing, Cordelia often yearns for the comfort of a cool embrace from the only woman with enough tenacity to know what to do at this exact moment. “Of being here?”

Misty blinks. “It’s just different now.” _I’m different. You’re different._

Cordelia doesn’t have to ask her what she means. “I know. Talk me through it, I’d like to help.”

Despite their rift today, Misty slowly patches up the metaphorical cracks in the pavement between them. She meant what she said about being tired. It’s exhausting, feeling this alone. “I’m less soft around the edges. I feel weathered, like I’ve been through a big storm or some shit.”

“You have,” Cordelia says gently.

“Doesn’t really feel like I’m much of a person anymore. I’m still lookin’ for that one thing that’ll make me feel whole again. And I feel like I’ve gotta take what I want now, because I don’t know if I’ll even be ‘round tomorrow. You know?”

The world grows quiet, the symphony of cicadas and other insects growing still as if wanting to hear the rest of Misty’s words.

In a last ditch effort to gain some sort of confidence, Misty unclenches her fists, silver rings glinting in the moonlight. “But what I want doesn’t want me back.”

In all of her years; most spent alone, some spent in a loveless marriage and the rest spent as a leader, Cordelia has never felt such a deep, visceral emotion as she does now. It knocks the air right out of her lungs and leaves her feeling hollow, like the shell of the person she once was. Her mouth opens, wanting to speak, but she cannot find the right words.

After a long moment, she gathers the nerve to ask, “What is it that you want?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Cordelia insists, “it’s important.” It’s cowardly of her to ask Misty for this confirmation when she herself can’t admit it, but she is so tired of this back and forth.

“You said it yourself,” Misty smiles crookedly, “we’re just friends.” It sounds as though she’s accepted it as fact, like it doesn’t eat her up inside as it does Cordelia.

“No, that’s -”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, I’m not mad. Not ‘nymore.”

Cordelia’s upper lip trembles, one lone tear betraying her greatly and falling down her cheek. Misty watches the trail it takes with an unreadable expression, like she’s wondering why this is affecting Cordelia so greatly. Doesn’t Misty know this hurts her? Doesn’t she know her mere presence on this earth is so debilitating in the most intense way? Cordelia doesn’t believe she will ever understand how precious and treasured she is.

“You don’t get it,” Cordelia starts, but Misty interrupts her again.

“I do get it, Delia. Like I said, don’t worry ‘bout explaining yourself. I’m better off on my own anyway. Always have been.”

The problem is - Cordelia has never been okay on her own. And Misty, well, she’s the only person that’s ever touched that dark place within the deepest depths of Cordelia’s soul and told her everything will be alright.

“No,” Cordelia replies viciously. “Stop talking for a minute.”

Misty raises her eyebrows in disbelief and relents, sitting back against the cool metal.

Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, Cordelia screws her eyes shut in hopes when she opens them that she’ll be anywhere but here. When she blinks them back open, Misty is still there and still staring at her with those beautiful fucking eyes and that face that could start world wars.

“I can’t, in good faith, take from you what I want.”

Misty looks right into Cordelia’s eyes and asks, “Can’t or won’t?”

“I don’t think you realize that it’s not plausible.”

“Seems pretty fuckin’ easy to me. Guess not though.”

“Misty, I,” Cordelia squeezes her eyes shut again. It’s hard to think rationally when Misty is in such close proximity and her patchouli and lavender scent is completely overwhelming her senses. “I feel like I’m drowning every time I look at you.”

Misty scoffs and goes on defense, taking the words the complete wrong way. “You won’t have to bother ‘bout me come morning. I’ll get out of your hair tonight.”

“No,” Cordelia says violently, “that’s not what I meant. When I say I’m drowning I mean that I quite literally cannot fathom the idea of having you any more than I do now.”

“It’s just me,” she says, softer now.

“You’ve always been like this.”

“Overwhelming?”

“Yes,” Cordelia bites her bottom lip and avoids eye contact. Had it really taken them this long to get here? She wants to say _welcome home, here is my heart, it’s yours now._

“You make me so incredibly frustrated,” Misty sighs, “but I can‘t not love you. It’s ingrained in me, more than anything else. The pain, the memories, the dirt in the cracks of my soul. Nothing compares.”

Cordelia openly cries now.

“I don’t know why we’re doin’ this to each other.”

“And I don’t know how to stop being like this,” Cordelia admits.

It’s Misty’s turn to lead things by brushing a lock of Cordelia’s soft hair behind her ear. Swiping a tear away with the rough pad of her thumb, she whispers, “All you have to do is say it.”

Cordelia releases a shaky breath, gathering all the courage in the world she can find. Then softly, “I could feel you in my body while you were gone. You were in my mind all the time. You were everywhere but nowhere at the same time. It’s hard for me to accept that you’re not leaving again.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere s’far as I know.”

“I can’t be selfish with you. I refuse.”

“This isn’t some fling, Delia. I mean what I say.”

“I know that.”

“I love you,” Misty says again, and the words come out bold and intoxicating, much like Misty herself. It’s an admission from the depths of her heart, the kind of confessions stored in its chambers for moments like this; the life changing scenarios you could only dream about.

“I think,” Cordelia hiccups, “I couldn’t love you more if I tried.”

The sweetest of smiles lights up on Misty’s face, and she jokingly pokes Cordelia’s soft thigh. “That wasn’t so damn hard, was it?”

“I don’t - where do we go from here?”

“You’re going to kiss me, and then you’re gonna take me upstairs and we’ll figure it out in the mornin’. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“C’mere, you big baby.” Tugging gently on a strand of Cordelia's hair, Misty pulls her close; closer than they’ve ever been. She smells incredible up close, something like cherry blossoms and sage. It makes Misty want to cry. Throwing an arm over her shoulder, she rests her forehead against Cordelia’s and smiles, “I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you.”

Cordelia cups Misty’s face with a warm hand and smiles back, her brown eyes still glistening wet. “It’s the same for me.”

“Are y’gonna kiss me now?”

Cordelia’s half groan-half laugh is muffled by pretty pink lips pressing tentatively against hers. When they part only a millisecond later, she swings her arms around Misty’s neck and pulls her in again, their mouths meeting like magnets. Misty’s lips taste like tequila and cherries, like love and affection. It’s sending tingles of shockwaves through Cordelia’s body, and she wonders briefly if she could sustain herself for the rest of her life off this taste.

Misty is whispering terms of endearment like poems of lust against her skin, and Cordelia can’t help but simply hold her and listen. For all the yearning and the aching that has come from this wait, Cordelia is completely and utterly transfixed with the way Misty’s body feels under her touch. It’s soft and pliant, and she thinks she’ll never want to let go. 

As their lips meet once more, Cordelia can feel warm tears falling down her face again. Maybe they’re Misty’s this time, but it doesn’t matter now that they’re sharing the pain together. “I love you,” is whispered in the shell of her ear before a playful bite accompanies. Cordelia shivers and clutches harder at her, hoping they’ll never have to part.

“Take me upstairs,” Misty says quietly, and Cordelia believes she could ask for the moon and she’d have it lassoed down.

Standing, she holds out a palm for Misty to take and then leads her inside past the crowd and the chaos. It’s finally time for them to be alone and in peace, just the way they’ve always wanted.

Inside Cordelia’s bedroom, she freezes. Never expecting to get this far, she watches as Misty shucks off her dress and crawls in the four poster bed, reclining under the covers like she’s belonged there this whole time. Even the comforter billows over her as if saying _finally you’re here_. Cordelia looks at the floor where Misty’s outfit fell and then back at her, wondering if angels were allowed to do such a thing. If they were allowed to be half naked in your bed, settled comfortably like so.

“Were you just gonna stand there all night?”

Cordelia blinks the stars from her eyes and quickly sheds her own outfit, slipping an old t-shirt on for some decency as if Misty isn’t practically naked in her bed. Shuffling under the covers, she lies on her side so Misty can face her. 

Clutching a hand to Misty’s barely clothed hip, Cordelia succumbs to the warmth her body gives off. “You’re so beautiful,” she hums, pressing open mouthed kisses against the base of her throat.

“Quit tryna turn me on,” Misty giggles, “I’m already naked up in ya bed.”

“I’m not pushing my luck. It’s late. I just want to hold you.”

Misty’s bare chest brushes against hers, something warm and thrilling igniting in the pit of her stomach. Then a cheeky, “Can you hold me after?”

Kissing Misty to hide the smile that threatens to embarrass her, Cordelia gently guides her leg to swing over her hip. Misty’s breath is warm and comforting across her cheek as she asks, “Will you feel me?”

As Cordelia slips her hand beneath Misty’s panties and inhales sharply, she gets her answer. The groan that follows will never leave Cordelia’s psyche, never in a million years. It sends her into overdrive, pushing forward to glide over wet folds and explore the parts of Misty she never believed she could.

A gasp stutters in her ear, throaty and sexy. Misty’s hand grips tighter at her shoulder as Cordelia’s pointer and middle finger find her clit and begin rubbing gently. Spreading her thighs a little further apart, Misty whines softly, nails digging hard enough to leave savage marks.

“You’re so beautiful,” Cordelia repeats, pushing two fingers inside warm, wet heat. Misty’s eyes flutter shut and she jerks forward, moving her hips in motion with the pace Cordelia sets. 

Cordelia is enamored with the body writhing against her, trying to drink in every lasting second. She wants to see all of it; more than she can, but Misty seems hellbent on holding her close. But that’s the best part - there will be time later to see more. Thrilled at the thought, Cordelia nestles her fingers deeper; harder, urging more squeaks and moans from Misty’s mouth. Their chests continue brushing against each other, sharp bursts of air getting swallowed up by the other just as quickly as they come out.

When Cordelia’s thumb begins rubbing a steady, consistent pattern over Misty’s clit, she chants _right there_ over and over. With one last deep, reckless thrust, Misty comes all over Cordelia’s fingers, loudly and theatrically. It’s expected, considering who she is.

“Christ, Delia,” she gasps, her lower body jerking uncontrollably. Cordelia waits until the movements slow before kissing her roughly and pulling her fingers out. Misty shivers, immediately molding her body to the warm figure across from her.

For a moment it’s silent, only the hum of the air conditioner making its debut. Misty is looking at Cordelia with such reverence, like an artist studying their muse or God looking over his creation. The skin on the back of her neck crawls, unused to being viewed by such a heavenly creature. But that’s the beauty of it all, Cordelia thinks, that Misty can now see her in a different light. The way she’s always been meant to be viewed, but hasn’t.

Before she even knows what’s happening, Cordelia feels a thigh pressed between her legs. A sharp gasp leaves the back of her throat, and then Misty’s hands are everywhere. Up her shirt, sliding down her waist, teasing her just below her panties.

“Misty, I, I -”

“Let me have you,” Misty nuzzles her nose into Cordelia’s throat and inhales her scent once more. It’s driving her insane, making her want a taste. The need is feral, completely and utterly electrifying, and if she doesn’t have Cordelia now she might die.

Moving to straddle her waist, Misty bends down and peppers kisses across the places she can reach; her jaw, throat, sternum. Cupping her breasts, Misty sweeps her thumbs in broad circles over her nipples, drinking in the whine that follows. “Is this okay?”

“You don’t have to -”

“What if I wanna?”

Cordelia lets her head fall back in defeat, knowing Misty is unrelenting. “Please,” she finally begs.

With all the confirmation she needs, Misty continues kissing down her body. When the muscles in her stomach quiver with the softest press of lips, Misty smiles to herself and knows this will not last long. Pressing one thigh to the side and then the other, she drags two long fingers over Cordelia and tries to memorize the sound that follows. 

“You’re wet,” she comments airily.

“You made me this way,” Cordelia shoots back with a shameless smirk.

Misty chuckles in agreement. Guiding Cordelia’s legs up on her shoulder, she helps her wiggle off the offending object in the way of what she’s desired for so long. Then pushing her shirt up and off, Misty leans back on her hind legs and takes in the sight of Cordelia’s naked body, a vision so incredibly striking it could bring her to her knees. (Literally.)

Kissing up one leg, Misty forcefully pushes the other apart until she’s situated between two warm thighs, happier than she’s been in a long time. With one broad stroke of her tongue, she reduces Cordelia to a boneless, quivering mess. 

It’s decimating, Cordelia believes, to have Misty’s mouth on places she could only dream of it being. Gripping equal fistfuls of the sheets and Misty’s hair in either hand, she undulates her hips and lets the pleasure flow through her veins. The feeling is white-hot and bold, even more so when Misty parts her open with her tongue and eats her out as if she’s been starving this whole time. There’s nothing gentle about the way her mouth sucks against Cordelia’s clit, but the gesture is fueled by years of painfully long yearning. Cordelia feels nothing but cherished and loved, especially when two of Misty’s capable fingers slide inside of her.

Cordelia’s lower body skyrockets off the bed, pressing more forcefully into Misty’s face, but that doesn’t dissuade her. Pawing frantically for Misty's free hand, Cordelia holds onto it like a direct lifeline. She may feel Misty everywhere, in every synapse, but she needs this tethered grip in fear she'd float away if let go. Sucking in waves as she thrusts her fingers in tune with the rolling of Cordelia’s hips, Misty doesn’t let up until she takes one final, deep breath and comes harder than she’s ever come before in her life.

Cordelia has been airlifted into the sky, in a place only gods and goddess belong. Her entire being is singing songs of praise, the thrum in her veins bursting with intense pleasure. It takes her a long while to feel normal again, her body still shaking like exposed live wire. Misty waits patiently, kissing the warm skin on the inside of thighs until Cordelia requests, “Come here.”

Gladly crawling back up the bed, she falls into open arms. “Where did you learn to do that?” Cordelia wonders, then quickly says, “Never mind, I’m not sure I want to know.”

Misty laughs wholeheartedly, her hair fanning out on the pillow under her head. Cordelia has never seen anything this beautiful in her lifetime. “That good?”

“Better than good.”

“That’s real nice to know. You’ll let me do it again?”

Cordelia groans. “Not now, my legs won’t work in the morning.”

Misty kisses her again and again, until she’s satisfied. (For the time being - they’ve got years to make up for.) “Maybe I want you to stay in bed all day.”

Giggling as Misty throws her back down atop rumpled sheets, Cordelia relents to the sense of gratification and allows Misty to have her way again - and again. How can she deny Misty of her most carnal desire anyway? That certainly wouldn’t be fair. 

Waking up in the quiet early morning hours before the sun has even risen, Cordelia can't help herself from brushing wild locks of hair out of Misty's face until she wakes. It's taken them forever and a day to get here, why waste time sleeping when there is so much to be discovered? For what seems like hours they stare at each other with impish grins, mutual feelings being shared through silent gestures of love. Soft kisses, gentle touch, the sweet parting of thighs and lips. They’ve waited so long to be in each other's arms that the world can continue on without them for one day. If it falls apart, there will be plenty of time for reconstruction later. A full twenty four hours in each other’s warm embrace is only what they deserve, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> it's been a while ladiez
> 
> all credit to fluffy the iguana goes to [pigmentseven](https://pigmentseven.tumblr.com/) on tumblr who shared their sweet drawing of misty and fluffy with me. i'm soft !
> 
> come find me pls


End file.
